Subway
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Blauna rides the subway.


The woman on the other side of the subway is making Blauna very uncomfortable. She'd like to believe she's not racist, but she's been staring at her ever since she sat down. Would it be racist to assume that the woman is being racist? Not all purebreds act this way, of course, but if there's one demographic that's likely to have a problem with hybrids, it's purebred humans. Really, though, it shouldn't be an issue. It's the thirty first century, by The Star, and she should know better. But there's no guarantee she's actually racist.

Blauna taps her longest claw on the floor, then risks peeking over the top of her book to check if the woman is still watching. She is, and they just made eye contact. Bloody perfect.

The woman leans forward hesitantly, and Blauna feels her stomach sink. She's going to ask something completely inappropriate, she just knows it! She'll say something like "Have you ever had thoughts of mauling someone?" or "Do you have a walnut-sized brain?". But she might not be racist. Maybe she's about to compliment her on her necklace. If only that were true . . .

"Excuse me?"

Blauna cringes.

"Yes? . . ."

"Are you related to the Monarch Queen?"

Shit. That's even worse! How is she supposed to answer that? Should she be honest, and if so, is she required to be _completely_ truthful? Crap, crap, crap!

"Uh . . . no."

"But you have the third horn," the woman remarks, pointing to Blauna's face like it's possible she hasn't noticed the giant horn that hovers in her field of vision at all times. Blauna leans back casually, hoping to minimize the impact of her next statement.

"Yeah, well . . . She's in my family tree, but I don't come from that genetic line."

The woman understands what this implies. She looks away quickly, as if she is suddenly wary of Blauna's temperament. If she wasn't passing judgment before, she sure is now.

"I'm also related to another stegoceratops family," Blauna quavers, desperate to save face, "It's funny, no one ever seems to talk about _them_ . . ."

Did that sound too bitter? Maybe it did. It might be wise to shut up, but then she'd seem like a weirdo. Not that she's coming off as sane at the moment . . .

"Do you have magic, then?"

Blauna gulps.

"I'm a morpher."

"But do you have magic?"

"A little."

The woman lifts her head slowly with wide eyes, as if she has Blauna all figured out. It's really starting to piss her off.

"Look, I'm nothing like her, okay?" Blauna snaps, "It's been, like, thirty generations, and besides, it's not like that kind of thing is genetic."

"Aggression can be genetic."

"Yeah, but I'm not aggressive!"

It probably wasn't a good idea to shout that last part. Blauna relaxes her muscles and looks away.

"I'm sorry. I'm not a fan of these conversations."

"They're just questions. No need to get offended."

Well, if that's the case, maybe Blauna should ask the woman if she's a bigot. By her logic, people should be held accountable for the actions of family members that died centuries ago. Then again, the fact that she's purebred could very well indicate that she sticks to her own kind. But that's an assumption, and assumptions are not facts.

"You know, if I were a morpher, I'd stay human all the time. It'd be easier that way."

Okay, _now_ it's a fact. How is she even supposed to _respond_ to something like that?

"I . . . All my clothes fit me in this shape," Blauna mutters weakly.

The woman looks her over critically.

"Might not hurt to move down a size."

Wow. This woman is all kinds of hateful. Obviously, the stegoceratops genes show in Blauna's torso. It's a miracle the woman hasn't commented on her face, which by purebred standards must look monstrous. Really, though, she's ugly to most demographics. Being in between a raptor, a human, and a stegoceratops means that she looks appealing to none of the latter, so the only people who tolerate her appearance are those who also linger between subspecies. In general. Not everyone is so preoccupied with looks, after all, hence the existence of crossbreeds in the first place. Legally, all sentient creatures are human, and that includes theropods, stegoceratopses, and other modern dinosaurs originally created by InGen. So yes, Blauna is technically human, but since when has any bigot cared about those standards? Ah well. At the very least, there's less discrimination within purebred groups now. It's funny how people can forget about established prejudice when an even stranger group appears. It's almost like racism is subjective and ultimately pointless. Hm.

Blauna can see that the woman has realized her words could be interpreted as hate speech. She's probably thinking of ways to salvage the situation, not for Blauna's sake, but to save her own skin. Blauna wouldn't sue her over something so petty, but the woman doesn't know that. It's kind of ironic that she's afraid of Blauna not because of her teeth and claws, but because of the repercussions of her own attack. Go figure.

The train is slowing down. It's the woman's stop. She stands, looking down at Blauna as she moves towards the door. Now is the time for her to withdraw her statement. It would be easy to offset the sting of her insult with a compliment. But can she? Is there an inch of Blauna's body that does not repulse this purebred woman? Can she possibly look past her prejudice and find something good in what she despises?

"I like your necklace," she mumbles flatly as she leaves the train.

Blauna looks down as the doors slide shut. The train begins to hum, and is soon moving again. The periodic flashes of light contour Blauna's face, highlighting the sneer that creases her muzzle in its resting position. She can see her reflection in the window across from her, transparent as a ghost. If she had been born as anyone else, would the sight of her own face strike fear into her heart? This is why she has never called herself beautiful. A lifetime of staring at the same face has had the effect of normalizing her appearance. She wouldn't be able to tell if she was ugly or beautiful unless she could forget what she looks like. But that's not going to happen.

Another purebred human gets on the train, taking the woman's abandoned seat. Without thinking, Blauna stands up and exits the vehicle. It's not even her stop.

She climbs out of the station, and the sunlight hurts her eyes. She barely notices, because she is too busy thinking about the people passing her on the street. Are they all like the woman? Do they think she's a freak of nature? She may never know.

As she approaches a shop window, Blauna once again catches sight of her reflection. She pauses to look herself over. Horns, claws, teeth, tail. Same parts as usual. She examines herself thoroughly, trying to figure out what it is that makes her ugly to purebreds. After a minute or two, she gives up.

There must be something wrong with her if she can't comprehend why she's a monster.


End file.
